oh those golden arches

A hamburger. Or possibly a cheesburger. Either one sounds delicious right about now. Not just any burger though... one from the "Golden Arches".

Yep, that's what I am talking about. For about 3 years now I have been craving a hamburger from there. I would settle for even a bite, or two, but for some reason, I just cannot give into this craving. I know, it sounds pretty ridiculous, its just a hamburger. But, the longer I have staved off this craving the guiltier I feel for giving into it. I'm not sure what record I am trying to set for myself or what reward I am going to recieve, but I feel as if I can't give in now. I believe my last hamburger from McDonald's was during my junior year of highschool. I could be wrong, but I am willing to bet that. I may have had a bite of someone's since then, but I do not remember. I can practically taste that warm pickle that is randomly tossed in the middle of the patty. I have had many moments of near weakness when I have been wavering on my craving, but have managed to drive my car in the opposite direction of the drive through window. I can't lie, I'd love to add in a nice chocolate shake and order of fries with that burger. Someday. Don't worry, I'll be sure to update you all on here when I do give in. It's riveting material... my world is oh-so-exciting.

Speaking of exciting. I had a fantastic raspberry lime rickey martini last night at Stearns & Hill Bistro in Melrose... 2 thumbs up. I think I need to go back soon for another one... Anyone want to come with me!>

Tim and I have officially booked our honeymoon. Watch out Aruba, I am coming down and I am getting my moneys worth of alcohol at the all inclusive resort we are staying at. Though, I am a little concerned with the all you can drink we'll be having while simultaneously sporting lycra. I guess I will just sit at the swim up bar where I can hide some of myself underwater while I sip away. Its worth it! But really, I couldn't be more excited about going on vacation. Tim and I are not big jet setters. Our last "real" vacation was also our first vacation! We went to Florida in 2002. Partied with Mickey Mouse... we know how to do it right. This trip however, is going to be fantastic. If only we could skip the whole plane part of the trip, it'd be perfect. I am not a huge fan of flying... luckily we leave at 5:30 am so I am hoping that I will be so bleary eyed that I won't have time to panic. It is always a little embarrassing when gasps and little whimper noises come out of my mouth in public. Ive never been a good flyer. I just assume I'm going to crash. I remember when I was younger boarding planes and saying to myself, "This is the last time you'll walk on the ground." I've always been dramatic as well as anxious. haha.

My reading spree is still going full steam ahead. I am just about to start another Sarah Dessen book. I can't say they are written masterpieces, but they are definitely fun to read and easy to get sucked into. I have read about 7 of them in the past week... in addition to a bunch of other similar books.

I think that is about it for my update. Simey and I head back to the vet for another recheck tomorrow. Hopefully we will report back with good news. The poor little guy has had a rough few months. I am off to finish off some Sunday chores (laundry- good times), watch some more basketball (which means an excuse to drink beer), and read some more teen fiction. Fun night ahead for me here in Wakefield!

the cone. take 2.

Yep. Simey is sporting the cone... yet again. As I was just typing, I got "coned". That is the phrase we like to use for Simon taking things (people, tables, walls, etc) out with the cone around his head. Apparently this morning when Tim woke up, he saw I was about to get seriously "coned". That is the risk you take when you share a pillow with your dog. I think at one point my head was inside his cone to snuggle.

So, what's wrong with little Simey now. Who knows. The vet doesn't know, so that is a great sign. Yesterday I went to show my mom his recent bruising that was all along his incision site (for which we were at the vet last week) when I noticed he had an ulceration in his skin. It looked like he had been punctured with a pen or pencil tip. All around the opening was raw and pussy, very infected looking. We went in right after I hung up and then left shortly after with very few answers. She said when she moved his skin she could look through the opening and into his body. They didn't want to stitch it because his skin is so thin in that area they were fearful it would tear. The poor little guy. He gets SO nervous each time he goes to the vet... it breaks my heart. I had to put the muzzle on him yesterday... due to his anxiety they get him muzzled up and then taken out back... its heartbreaking. They had him in the back room and the door was still open, as I was talking to the Dr. about some of the symptoms. I could see past her to little Simey standing on the table with his blue muzzle on, trembling like a leaf. He was a little rag-a-muffin with his unruly fur sticking out in every direction... he looked so adorable I wanted to giggle. But, the look in his eyes took away the thought of laughter. His eyes were intently fixed on me, pleading for me to come and take him back. I would've if I could. As the vet shut the door, I had to force myself to stop thinking about the "what ifs" and the inevitable. He is snuggled up close on my leg right now. His stinkiness is permeating the room, but it's cute. :) He is so overdue for a grooming appointment, but at this rate, it's never going to happen! As soon as his incisions heal from one surgery, he'd have another, or like now, have some strange hole in his body.

Tim and I watched a movie tonight called the "The Brave One" and there is a line in the movie where Jodi Foster says, "I want my dog back". (I won't give details cause I don't want to be a spoiler), but we both laugh and agreed that is something I would say. Then we continued to joke about me saying, "I want my yorki-poo back" and then Simon running out with a tee shirt on. haha. He's too cute.

I went to the mall today to get Maddy some things for tomorrow...well, I mean, in addition to what the Easter bunny would bring of course. When I got to the light before my on ramp for the highway I saw there was a man on the island in the middle of the road holding up a sign. "NEED WORK. NO FOOD". This sign made my stomach turn. Instinctively, my eyes started to water and I got really stressed out thinking about this man and how he must feel. How it must be such a degrading feel to write a sign like that and stand out for everyone to see. The desperation. Honestly, your sense of pride just ripped away. My reaction to this man and his sign comes as a little bit of a surprise to me. Usually I have this response to an animal that I think is homeless. Or any animal really because I see them and then immediately concoct some horrendous story in my head... but before I go into the neurotic psyche of my mind let me get back on track... I usually feel this sense of empathy for animals. But today, this man got to me and I was put right into that place that overwhelms me.

Sometimes I feel as if I am making an excuse when I don't get involved in causes or learn more about whats going on in the world because I internalize things so deeply. On occasions like today, I realize that it is not so much an excuse, but reality. I mentioned in an earlier post that I would love to be more involved in animal causes, but cannot because it affects me too much and I truly believe this is the truth. It is not laziness or apathy. But, its this feeling I get that is so hard to explain. I've never put it into words and I'm not sure I ever could. It is both physical and emotional. It's not that I feel as if I need to save the world and all people and animals from suffering, but the reality of their suffering is just too much for me. Especially in regards to animals (which makes me feel like a really awful person when I say). There was a quote that was posted all over Salem State and I had even put it up in my classroom a few years ago and it said something along the lines of, "Sympathy is no substitution for action." That is why I feel as if I am one big excuse. Its as if my mind immobilizes me. It is safer to try and avoid or ignore things that are going on than to deal with the anxiety and uncomfortableness of the truth. Again, this is another running theme in my life that I have just unveiled through a completely random situation. Haha. I believe Oprah calls these, "A-ha moments!" (right Gerard! I know you love her)

And to end, a shout out to my blogging groupie (and Simon's Godmother). Last night was a lot of fun... can't wait to mix up some more flirtinis soon!! Simon misses you!

simey and mommy pills

I've been on one of my lyrics kick lately, which is really nothing new. Have I mentioned before that I love "A Fine Frenzy". Every song. Their lyrics are nothing exceptional, but it is the way it all comes together. It gets me everytime. If you don't have any of their songs, get some. trust me. "Whisper" is my Fine Frenzy song of the week. I could listen to lyrics all day long. I get lost in them. If only I could live my life through lyrics. Instead of talking to people, I would just hand them a print out. Everything would be so much easier.

Favorite lyrical singers of the week: Angie Mattson, Mat Kearney, James Blunt, Yael Naim, Heather Nova, Snow Patrol

Last week I had Simey at the vet, yet again. His incision site is looking quite dreadful. It is covered in reddish-purple bruises. So, we went back in. The poor little guy was trembling so hard he could barely walk, which is pretty much how he is at every trip to the vet! We left an hour or so later with another large bill and a prescription for prozac... Yes, prozac for the dog. Lovely. For some reason this seems like the ultimate determining factor that something in my life is not exactly right... my dog is on prozac. As if I don't already give my pharmacist enough money out of my wallet every month for myself, I can now add Simon's bill to it all. I wonder if Tim is feeling left out of the monthly pharmacy trip> I believe this is where I need to talk to Sheila and Gerard in regards to the upcoming insurance change in our contract... which plan has the cheapest prescriptions!> I hope the pills help... he needs something desperately. Then again, don't we all. A few weeks ago I read a blurb in the police blotter in the Free Press about a mother and son heroin arrest...That will be Simey and I running some cohort prescription pill operation.

I've been thinking a lot and realizing that unfortunately, I have not been in denial... but that the truth is... yes, I really in this bad of shape. I lifted some weights for about 10 minutes yesterday. I think the were 5 lbs each. haha. I'm sore. My legs hurt from the 30 squats I did. I am not sure exactly when I crossed the line from "a bit rusty" to blatantly, pathetically unfit. Tim and I have been really buckling down to book our honeymoon for April. I'm wondering how on Earth I am supposed to sport anything made of lycra in this state. Mind you, I've worn a bathing suit twice in the past... I don't know how many years... 7 maybe (when did I have to take it at URI... I think my senior year... Only suffered a few weeks before I was pardoned from the course... which was a few weeks longer than Marla who impulsively decided to test out of it! I will never forgive you for that!!! Thank God for Sue and wheels getting me out of that mess!) The two times since then were just this fall. Once with my mother at a wedding in the Catskills and the other at the spa tim and I went to after the wedding. For some reason, I bought a bikini. Oh, I remember why. Gerard convinced me women look thinner in bikinis than in one piece suits. Sweet. I'm sooo glad I listened to him and then had one of my impulsive- mind clouded moments where I convinced myself I could get myself into shape by the time it came to wear it. Right. Lovely. Maybe I could push this trip back a little more...

Some selected lines from my songs of the week...

"The sound tires on my lips

To fade away into forgetting"

"Saw the world turning in my sheets and once again I cannot sleep.Walk out the door and up the street; look at the stars beneath my feet.Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.Hello, hello. There is no place I cannot go.My mind is muddy but my heart is heavy. Does it show?I lose the track that loses me, so here I go.And so I sent some men to fight, and one came back at dead of night...

I'm not calling for a second chance,I'm screaming at the top of my voice.Give me reason but don't give me choice.'Cause I'll just make the same mistake again."

"Far far, there's this little girl

she was praying for something to happen to her

everyday she writes words and more words

just to speak out the thoughts that keep floating inside

and she's strong when the dreams come cos' they

take her, cover her, they are all over

the reality looks far now, but don't go"

...in the lilt of Irish laughter, you can hear the angels sing...

I took the day off from school today. I haven't been feeling well for awhile. It is hard to describe all the symptoms, other than the intense fatigue. Fatigue to the point I am nearly in tears every night or at least feel like I could be. It isn't "normal" fatigue. I've been having concerns with this for awhile, but I'm too stubborn or forgetful, haha, to go to the doctor. Anyway. As I wrote in my last post, I have the big family party tomorrow... all week I have come home and fallen asleep on the couch, thus getting nothing cleaned. I'm feeling extremely guilty, though I really didn't feel well last night. I guess it was a mental health day> I woke up nice and early, well early for me considering how I have been sleeping as of late. (Mind you, I am someone that used to be home from the gym, showered and done with most of my day by 9 am on Saturday... these days, its like 10:30- 11 wake up... strange). Got a lot done. Cleared out stuff from my front room... it's still cluttered with stuff from the shower. Yes, the shower was a long time ago, but there was a lot of stuff there! Mostly boxes... but, they're gone now. I hadn't unwrapped all the individual wine classes, etc, because I hadn't needed them... upon doing so, I found that there were "other" gifts in those boxes... including the "rabbit" wine opener I've been dying to get and the stemless martini glasses I was so excited about! It was like Christmas morning here! I'm so pumped, that rabbit opens wine faster than anything I've seen and easier! Even Tim will be able to open wine bottles now!

I realized that people who are out during the week are much nicer than the weekend warriors. I made a couple friends today during my travels. The cashier at the Hallmark Store (Great new Yankee candle scents out!), a woman in line at Starbucks, and the nicest woman at Trader Joe's who took me under her wing like I was her daughter and helped me pick out cheeses that you serve with crackers. haha. I felt clueless as I stared at the shelves of cheese for about 5 minutes. I watched each cheese purchaser very intently, but was still at a loss. Who knew there were so many types of cheese! This lady was so nice. She was probably around the same age as my mom and showed me the best kinds for the cheapest price. She was in the checkout next to me and I wanted to talk to her again... I thought I might scare her though... that is a little too "stalker-ish".

After my food chores, I had to swing by my sisters to pick up decorations for tomorrow. (Side note, Maddy's hair is getting SO long. Mostly long in the back- business up front- party in the back haha) She has passed St. Patty's down to me, so I was appreciative of anything green she could donate. I took a route to my sister's house that I would usually never take. The route cuts right through Winchester, which is where my grandparents lived. I thought about driving by their old house, but remembered hearing my Dad comment that the new owners had recently ripped down the front porch. I couldn't handle seeing that, so I decided not to drive by. Around the same time I was contemplating this, I was nearing the cemetery in which my Grandfather (Papa) is buried. For some reason, I just pulled in. I've only been there a few times, yet I was able to pull my car up to the exact spot to walk over to where he was buried.

Seeing the tombstone (tombstone or headstone> hmm) is always difficult for me, mainly because my grandmother's name is on it and she is still alive. That freaks me out. Usually a death related panic attack ensues within 5 minutes of the visit, but today I seemed to be alright. I looked around at the tombstones near Papa's and was sicked to see litter. There was an empty pill container half in the ground at the plot next to his. I don't understand how people can be so thoughtless, so selfish, to think they can throw their trash at the place where someone else has buried their loved ones. Anyway. In my mind, I kept picturing my grandmother and the look on her face the few times I have brought her there to see him. It breaks my heart. I can hear her talking to him and kissing her hand and then placing it on top of the headstone. She always tells him she will be seeing him soon... which makes me want to both chuckle and cry. Chuckle because she has been saying this since he died in 1992. She told us we could just have 1992 engraved next to her name as well... but, here she is today, with more energy than me! My trip to visit Papa was unplanned, but it made me wish that I had brought him something. Some plots around his had flowers or other reminders from people that loved them. I went to my car and got a tulip out of the bunch I had bought at Trader Joes and laid it on the ledge of his headstone. It wasn't much, but it was something that would show people that walked by that someone that loved the person there had been by to visit. I can't wait to tell my grandmother I went by, I know it will mean the world to her.

St. Patrick's Day always reminds me of my grandparents. When we were little we would go to their house in Winchester to celebrate. I was usually dressed in the most ridiculous attire I could find. I had on every different shade of green... there was no matching or planning, just like a shamrock exploded on me. Here is an example... a kelly green basketball shirt under a "tourquise" sweater... oh and with a beaded pocketbook on my head. I was a freak...

Anyway... I remember watching my Dad and Uncle drink green beer and being jealous, so Mamae would put green food coloring in my ginger ale. At some point in the festivities we would also take time to sing "When Irish Eyes are Smiling". This was, and still is, one of my favorite songs. It is comforting to me because it reminds me of when I was little. Papa had a great voice, at least in my memory! It was very deep, yet very gentle. One year my father borrowed someone "video cassette recorder" (as he filmed himself and tried to explain the concept of the video camera). That year we recorded a bunch of us singing together. It looked like a scene out of movie... one where it flashes back to a character's memory of something in the old days... We were lined up in the living room, arms linked around each other's shoulders or waists, swaying back and forth. I was wedged in between Papa and Mamae with my arms wrapped around Mamae's waist. I don't think I was really singing the right words, but it didn't matter because you can only really hear Papa... and at times my Dad, unfortunately. haha. There were two items I requested from Mamae when she was trying to delegate her possessions from her house. Out of everything I wanted a little clock and a wind up ceramic leprechaun. The clock was always placed next to Papa's chair. At the top of each hour it wound make a ding-dong noise that I can still here vividly in my head. It is a sound I associate with their home. The ceramic leprechaun plays when "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" and we would wind it up all the time and listen to it.

I wanted to put a picture of Papa on here, but I realized I don't have any here. They are all in photo albums and most of them at my parents house. I feel so ashamed of that... it is on my to-do list for this weekend... I did find one picture of him, but it doesn't really represent his character... But, for right now it's all I've got... Tomorrow, when Irish Eyes are Smiling comes on, I know I will think of him... I just wish he could be here to see how his family has grown and how much he missed... He was the best.

In the words of Sir Mix- Alot

It's been awhile since I last rambled. I figured I could come back and bore you all a little bit more.

We are quickly approaching the favorite Doherty family holiday. Sure Christmas is great and it is hard to argue with the quality food Thanksgiving brings... But, the true magic happens on St. Patrick's Day for it is the one day of the year that it is acceptable to adorn your head with a delicate leaf of greenery. Yes, the greenery I am referring to is, cabbage. In order to be an official part of our family you must partake in this unique, and sacred, tradition. Over the years, we have seen many significant others awkwardly place a leaf of cabbage on their head and force a smile for a family picture. The first time is the hardest and then it becomes second nature. Though, Tim still seems to struggle but I blame that on the cabbage. He always gets a small leaf which doesn't fit... must be all those brains in there! This will be Tim's first cabbage wearing as an official Doherty family member.

Picture 1: My cousin and I in the early years with cabbage... Mine unsuccessfully remaining on my head.
Picture 2: My grandmother sporting cabbage last year. She is too cute.



"Lauren, you have to get back to the gym...and I'm not just saying that because your ass is getting huge..." Me: "I know, it's awful" Him: "No, No. I'm just kidding..." (This comment was made after a pickleball game in which I was sweating profusely and feeling quite old and out of shape.) It's fun to work with a guy who still has the maturity and sense of humor of a middle schooler. After this "mocking" we continued to talk about the size of my ass. "You don't strike me as the type of girl that worries about gaining weight, like freaking out because you think you're getting bigger..." This made me chuckle, alright, not chuckle... outright laugh. I'm not sure how he came about this assumption but, I found it extremely amusing. I told him I was glad that I didn't seem to be someone that complained about their weight and body image because, frankly, it gets old. Unfortunately, as I pointed out to him the outward persona may not truly reflect the thoughts and feelings going on inside. I'd love to say he was right about me... Maybe someday he will be...

Tobias Maximillian Doherty

Yes, my second post of the evening. Can you tell I am enjoying my free time since our tournament loss...

Last week, I heard the unfortunate news about Iris Gilmartin. My friend Sheila (Gilly) has had the misfortune of having to put both of her cats (Iris & Max) to sleep only months apart. This is something I truly cannot fathom. I am pretty sure if I were in this situation, I would be heavily tranquilized and strapped down to a bed (maybe Britney would be my roommate!>). But really, my heart breaks for Sheila and her loss. My pets are a huge part of who I am, and I know how hard it is to say goodbye to them. When Sheila had to put Max down, I suggested she do something that I had done when we put Toby down, back in 1997.

We hadn't planned to put Toby down, but we knew his health was fading. A once vibrant (and yes, neurotic) terrier had become a shadow of his former self. We found out soon after he passed that he had cancer. Watching Toby wither away is something that will unfortunately, stick with me forever. One night we were eating dinner, the next thing I knew, I was passing him over to my sister, knowing deep inside that I would never hold him again. A few days before this happened, I had started to journal some of the things that I loved about Toby and would want to remember. Reading back over these memories, even now, brings my love for Toby back. Two nights ago, I sat in bed chuckling to myself as I read over the list of Toby "traits". Ironically, I realized that many of the things I loved most about Toby, are things that Simon does. Of course they have their own quirks, many-many-many quirks, haha, but there are so many similarities... hmm, maybe the correlation between the neurotic tendencies is me. Hmm.

So, in memory of Toby, Max, & Iris, I wanted to share some of the special traits that made Toby (Tobias) so special. The following are a compilation of nicknames, stories, etc... When my mom would say, "Toby, bedtime- go to Lauren's room" and he would take off for my bed; our night-time "fights" when he would growl at me and I would yell at him to get off my pillow and then my mom would come in and break it up haha; when he would bite the waves, or ripples, at the beach; chase the tide; his silhouette from the back with his pointy little ears and the tufts of hair sticking up in between; his eyebrows that poofed out; holding his paws when we cuddled; the way he loved my grandparents and knew when their car pulled in-especially Papa; the way he instinctively attached himself to Mamae after Papa died; no matter what command we gave him, he would just stick out his paw; his shadow when we went for walks; his fear of snapping gum; the way he napped under the Christmas tree; when he would nap with his head on my legs; when we shared (and fought over) my pillow; whenever I cried and hugged him and his hair would get all matted down; the times I would squeeze him so hard he would squeak; when I would tease him with his toy and then bounce it off his head; the way he would make a nest-or bed- for his little monster toy and then place it in there and protect it; when he would take his monster toy for walks around the block; when I would put the red boots on him haha; the day we got him and drove home in the minivan- I was SO scared of him (all 4 lbs of him) that I sat on the floor of the van... but I remember touching his little paw and being amazed at how velvety the bottom was; seeing him in the window and then hearing him run to the back door to greet me; the night he got wedged upside down in between the wall and the bed; the time I was sick and sleeping on the couch and woke up to him lying on my stomach and licking my chin; the look of pure exhilaration he would get on his face when we let him run on the beach; when he had a bath and water would drip down the bridge of his nose and he'd lick it; Tobi won canobi; Toblerone. This could go on forever... so I will stop there...

I'm sure many of you have had a pet at one time or another that meant a lot to you. (Marla, I'm sure you're thinking of Gabby now... haha, Gabby who>!) From Frisky the gerbil, Jaws the goldfish, Hank the hermit crab, Waldo the hamster, & Simon & Toby the terriers- I've had my share! Sorry again Gilly... Remember all the good times and good cuddles :)

purpose. poems. pickleball.

A few days ago, or so, I posted about needing something to be passionate about. This has been something on my mind for awhile, but even more so these days. As I was looking around online I realized that one of my biggest passions is so intense, that there is almost nothing I can do about it because I am too emotional and sensitive to the issue. Animals.

I would LOVE to do more work for animals. Volunteer at shelters, etc. But, I simply cannot be in those situations. I have always been a huge animal fan and advocate. I do believe it was Katie Dargan and myself that started the animal club at Lincoln Elementary school! But, over the years, my sensitivity to the issue has become too... personal. Im not sure personal is the right word, but it is the only way I can really describe it. I have a lot of trouble separating myself from stories or images I hear about cruelty to animals. My imagination is way too vivid. Literally, I can no longer go into pet stores...or even walk by them and see an animal. It is embarrassing. I cry. I made the mistake a few years ago of letting myself go into one, Woof, at the square one mall. I was looking through the glass at an adorable maltese puppy. Without thinking, I put my hand to the glass as if I could reach through and pick it up. The puppy on the other side saw my hand and hopped over. With its little paw it tried to swipe the glass. I immediately lost it. I "teased" the dog. My mind constantly started swirling. All that poor dog wanted was for someone to play with it and there I was. I teased it. I then jumped to thinking of my own dog, Simon. I thought of how Simon and this dog were no different, I just happened to adopt Simon. I left the store in tears. Actual tears. I was horrified when 15 minutes later, tears were still trickling out of my eyes. All those puppies just want someone to love them. From there, my mind goes further and I make myself sick with the horrible thoughts of what happens to all those unwanted animals... all of those unwanted animals that are capable of loving, playing, licking, and cuddling that don't get a chance. I have to shield my eyes and go to the other side of the mall. It is almost under the realm of obsessive-compulsive. Even walking by the stores I get awful images of the animals being brutalized. It makes my stomach turn. Its almost as if I care too much and so I have to take myself away from it... because I can't handle it. I talked with Tim once about getting an animal from a shelter. I am all for that, however, I could never step foot in a shelter. I could not walk away from all those animals, each deserving someone to love them. I would love to help be an advocate for animals, but Im not sure how to go about it without emotionally digging myself into a hole. I know it sounds pretty dramatic, especially if someone is not an animal person, but that is really how I feel about it. I wish I could be a vegetarian. I have tried a few times, but inevitably give in to chicken. I went 2 weeks once, then my mom made chicken fajitas... whoops.

As far as poems, I don't see any of those surfacing on a blog anytime soon. Sorry folks. Haha. I will peruse my files and see if there are any I feel suitable... don't hold your breath though.

The Wellness I pickleball tournaments began this week. Which in my world is better than the world series and superbowl combined (although the puppybowl could be a close contender... anyone else know what puppybowl is>!) I am proud to report that so far, I am undefeated. :) Today, my partner and I had an intense match up and pulled out a tight win. I take pickleball very seriously, obviously. My golden moment came when a drop shot was hit and i semi-dove, ok it was more of a sliding split, and returned a little cross court drop shot to win the point. Ahh, yes, nothing like pickle ball to build up the self-esteem. I heard from the side line spectators today, "Miss Doherty is sick..." Even though I am twice their age, it is still every bit rewarding to beat the boys at sports. I love it. They act all cocky and tough... it's so rewarding. GIRL POWER! Just kidding. My partner was a boy today. We delivered... I need to get a good night's rest to be prepared for tomorrow, we have a big match. Five hours of pickleball is never enough. Plus, its an excuse to eat more carbohydrates!